Ten Better Scenarios For The Crown Than What Actually Happened
by phantomstimeturner
Summary: Did the ending of The Crown make you question the existence of a god? Have you ever wondered about all of Eadlyn's "what could've beens"? Do you love Kile Woodwork more than anything else in the world? If that's the case, this might just be the story for you.
1. The Crown Was All a Dream

**My winter break project was rereading the entire Selection series, and I finished that today. I remembered why I wanted to punch myself in the face after reading** _ **The Crown**_ **the first time. It's not just that I adored Kile and was very upset at how he was treated (though that is part of it); the whole thing seemed a bit rushed /forced/ridiculously out-of-character and I could yell about it for ages. Point being, the end of** _ **The Crown**_ **caused me physical pain, and here I am, actually doing something about it.**

 **Please don't take me too seriously.**

Chapter One

I woke up gasping, clutching at my sheets like they were all that was tethering me to reality. Wait…this _was_ reality, wasn't it? Not…oh god it sped up my heart (in a terrible, horrible, panicked way) to even think of it.

"Hello?" I called shrilly, looking desperately around for someone, anyone who could explain to me what was going on. My heart was still racing, my head still spinning. Horrible thoughts, blurs of memories ran through my head…Marid being an ass, my spur-of-the-moment decision to change the entire structure of the country, proposing to Henri's scruffy _translator_ of all people…it was simply bizarre.

Well, actually, the "Marid being an ass" part sounded fairly standard, but _really?_ The _translator?_ That was about as un-Eadlyn as things could get.

Hearing my call, several people rushed into my room, the first being Neena, and she was followed closely by both Kile and Ahren. I leaped out of bed to hug all of them, but my legs promptly gave out and I fell on the floor. Ouch.

Kile scooped me up to set me back on the bed, looking just as worried as my father had when Mom had her heart attack. My god, the _heart attack._ Was _that_ even real? My head hurt hurt trying to think about it, to think at _all,_ really.

"You're all here," I breathed, reaching up to pat Kile's face and then Ahren's to make sure they truly were. "Kile…you're still _here_. Ahren…you're not in France."

"Well, I mean, I kind of _tried_ to be," my brother joked, though there was still worry in his eyes. "But when I found out that in _addition_ to my mother having a heart attack, my sister was in some kind of coma, I knew I really ought to come back home, at least until some of you were back on your feet."

"And why wouldn't I be here, anyway?" Kile asked, looking a little hurt and a lot confused.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight, trying to remember why I'd ever let that happen. It certainly didn't seem like a good idea now. I hoped it wasn't too late to change things. "I…I don't know. How long has it been?"

"What do you remember?" Neena asked softly. "It's been four days."

"The last thing I remember is…" Even when I concentrated, everything in my memory seemed like a blur, and an unpleasant one at that. "I was addressing my people. I was queen. I was- I was _married!"_

Everyone else in the room took in a breath sharply, presumably with horror. Neena looked at me with extreme worry. "That's certainly not happened. You're still the princess, still unmarried. Your mom had a heart attack, and you fainted. You've just been in a little coma, that's all."

It surprised me that she was so casual about a coma, but that was certainly not my biggest concern. "So…nothing's happened since my mom's heart attack?" I asked hopefully. "Everything's fine?"

Ahren chuckled. "I think 'fine' is a strong word. Mom's in a coma- the intentional kind of coma, but still- and Dad's an absolute wreck, I left France in shambles, and due to both you and Dad being out of commission, _I_ am temporarily in charge of this country."

He was right. "Fine" was definitely a strong word. I took a shaky breath. "So it was all a dream. None of it happened."

"What's _it?"_ Kile asked, wrinkling his nose.

I shuddered. "It's worse than words could ever describe. Kile, Ahren, help me up- I've got a lot to do."

"You shouldn't get up!" Neena insisted. "You need time to recover!"

"It's important," I told her, extending my arm so one of the boys could grab it. "I've just had the most horrible nightmare, and I've got to make things right before history repeats itself! Oh, this isn't working- Kile, just carry me! Ahren, will you stand next to him in case something goes wrong?"

Kile obediently lifted me bridal-style, and Ahren held out his arms nervously. "Eady, if you _do_ fall, I make no promises to catch you."

"That's okay! Kile won't let me fall!"

He just grunted in reply, but I took it as confirmation that no, he would not drop me. Neena fretted behind us. "Oh, I'm going to get your father!"

She scurried off. I hooked an arm around Kile's neck to secure my position. "To Henri's room, please," I directed him. "I've got some terrible plot points to nip in the bud."


	2. Kile and Eady Talk It Out

**By posting this chapter, I'm officially beating all my fanfiction records. I've never posted anything more than a one-shot on here before. Let's see if I actually go through with ten whole chapters of this madness.**

 **The original scene from** _ **The Crown,**_ **where Eadlyn was going to propose to Kile and she suddenly CHANGED HER MIND RANDOMLY, really bothered me. It just didn't seem like something our determined, stubborn, Eadlyn would do, so please excuse the overall poor writing of this chapter. I'm still upset. Probably will always be upset. #TeamKile.**

Chapter Two

"Whoa! Eadlyn, slow down!" Kile exclaimed, grabbing my hands in his. Had it been anyone else, I might have smacked him away, but really, this was _Kile._ He could get away with just about anything as far as I was concerned. _"Banish_ me? Are you _crazy?"_

"I'm trying to do what's best for you!" I said defensively, pulling my hands away. I'd come into Kile's room planning to propose to him and end the Selection, yes, but seeing his beautiful sketches all laid out had made me doubt my choice. "It wouldn't be fair to tie you down! Look at you, you've got all these _dreams_ and _plans_ and I don't see how any of them involve being my Prince Consort and living in the palace!"

He sighed deeply. "Eady, please don't have me hung for this, but you're being ridiculous. Every dream and plan I have involves _you,_ whether it's in this palace or at the northernmost point of Whites or a little town in Carolina. Do you really think I haven't thought this through?"

I tilted my head, not quite seeing where he was going. "Thought _what_ through? _"_

"How my life would change when we got married." He caught himself just a little too late. "Excuse me, um, _if_ we got married. As soon as I realized I _liked_ you, I started thinking about it, and when it comes down to it, really, what would I even be losing?"

"Your architecture," I said softly. "You'd have to spend nearly all your time in this palace. You wouldn't be able to do any of that."

"Well, why not?" he asked indignantly. "Maybe I couldn't be as involved in the construction, sure, but if anything, my architecture would be _thriving,_ since I'd actually have the spotlight and the funding for it. Besides, isn't it _tradition_ for The One to do some kind of service project for the country, like, for example, simple and affordable housing for the homeless?"

I _had_ heard my mother mention that once or twice. She'd possibly suggested it as an activity for my suitors. I pursed my lips. "But…you've always said the palace is a _cage._ I don't want to be the one responsible for confining you."

"You're not _confining_ me!" he said indignantly. "Eadlyn, since you and I started…doing things…I've never enjoyed my life here more. It was never this castle I hated; it was the loneliness, the isolation. Things are different now. I can do everything I've ever dreamed of right from this palace, as long as I've got you by my side!"

"That makes a lot of sense, actually," I commented. "Gosh, Kile, I'm sure glad I listened to you instead of just, like, banishing you or something!"

"That would've been ridiculous," he agreed. "I'm really glad we had this talk, Eady."

"Me too," I said. "Besides, if you feel like we're rushing things or something, we don't even have to get married right away. You could go to college before officially becoming Prince Consort!"

He gasped. "That's _allowed?!"_

I shrugged. "Well, I mean, I'm the _Queen._ I kind of get to say what's allowed or not."

"Fair point," he conceded.

"Kile Woodwork, would you like to marry me?"

"We've already established that, haven't we?"

"Oh, yeah, you did say that," I remembered absently, fishing through my dress to find the ring box I'd stashed away. The problem with being obligated to wear big poofy dresses all the time was that it was very difficult to find the pockets. Many of them actually didn't even _come_ with pockets, and I had to send Neena back to add them in later. "Found it!"

Kile and I picked the engagement rings out and slid them on. It felt so _right,_ like this had been meant to be all along. At this point, really, it wouldn't surprise me.

 **This isn't that great, is it? And be warned, these chapters are only going to get weirder as we go along. –Liz**


	3. Marid Gets What He Deserves

**Many thanks to the readers that have made it this far, most especially the 4 that have left reviews! My day was made, 100%.**

 **In any case, this is one of the weirder scenarios, just because I didn't want anyone to get their hopes up for a logical/decent story. At least it's funny. That's about all you can expect from me.**

 **Besides, this came up in the actual book WAY too much for me not to write it. I can't be the only one who thought about this.**

Chapter Three

People were shouting. An alarm was wailing, making the whole building shake, but Aspen didn't care. He hardly even seemed to notice, actually, as he launched himself over the jewelry store counter to tackle Marid Illéa. The attractive young man gave a very unattractive shriek of panic as he hit the ground. Though he struggled, he wasn't _nearly_ strong enough to knock back Aspen Leger, the greatest general Illéa had ever known.

Besides, Aspen wasn't wasting any time. He pinned Marid's arms behind his back and thumped his head against the wall, effectively knocking him unconscious. The store's manager screamed and popped the cash register open, holding a fistful of bills towards Aspen. "P-please don't hurt anybody, just take the money, take the jewels…"

Aspen scoffed, picking up Marid's limp body and slinging it over his shoulder. "You can keep the money. I'm just here for this traitor and wannabe king."

One of the customers spoke up timidly. "Marid Illéa is no traitor."

"That is a matter of opinion," Aspen contradicted. "This man has attempted to undermine Her Majesty's Selection. In my mind, that makes him a traitor. Have a nice day."

 **...**

Lady Brice shut the TV off. Her mouth was a very serious, very flat line. "That was on TV. _Live_ TV. _VERY PUBLIC TV!_ Aspen, what on earth do you have to say for yourself?!"

Everyone in the room got very quiet. Aspen shifted uncomfortably in his seat, beginning to look just a little bit sheepish. "Well…ah…maybe I won't be recognized?"

Eadlyn doubted it. The security footage from the jewelry store had been bad, but not _that_ bad. Aspen was also mildly famous, so there was only a very, very small chance he wouldn't be recognized at all.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?" thundered Eadlyn's father, Former King Maxon, slamming a fist onto the table.

"Hey!" Aspen said defensively. "It was for the good of the country! No one messes with our Eady!"

"That's right!" Eadlyn agreed, high-fiving him enthusiastically.

"Aspen, you're going to be arrested," Lady Brice said flatly. "If you get away without punishment, how will that make the monarchy look?"

"AND WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO _DO_ WITH HIM?" demanded Maxon, pointing violently at Marid, tied up in the corner with a gag in his mouth.

Aspen shrugged. "Well, I mean, we've got a dungeon, right?"

" _I_ thought the idea was to _kill_ him," Eady reminded everyone.

"Don't _encourage_ him!" Lady Brice exclaimed shrilly.

"Well, I mean, it would _work…"_ Maxon trailed off. "Marid really _was_ becoming a problem…"

From the corner, Marid started squeaking and struggling against his ropes. "It's useless, traitor!" Aspen called smugly. "You'll never get out of here alive!"

"Shut up, Aspen," Maxon and Lady Brice said in unison.

" _Thank you,_ Aspen," Eadlyn told him solemnly. "If you hadn't done this, I would've been forced to end my Selection rashly and marry someone without taking the time to figure out what's really best for me. I owe you one."

"That's awfully convenient, isn't it," said Aspen.

 **Just a quick one this time, to prove writer's block doesn't own me. This one was not as easy to write as I kind of expected it to be, so I've got half of a first draft that's twice as long and only half as good, plus an idea for an alternate ending that I might eventually post as a "bonus" chapter eleven. Big plans, folks. –Liz**


	4. Henri Leaves at a Reasonable Time

**Just to clarify, this is by no means an insult to Henri. I** _ **adore**_ **Henri. If it came down to it, I would probably take a bullet for Henri. I just don't see why** _ **Eadlyn**_ **would keep him around, other than 'his translator is an important plot point later'. Eady was awfully heartless in her first mass elimination, remember? Henri would've hardly lasted a day.**

 **I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, HENRI I LOVE YOU.**

Chapter Four

I took a deep breath as I knocked on the door of Henri's room. I didn't want to do this, not really, but with the serious turn everything in my life was taking, it wasn't fair to waste my time- or his, for that matter. I knew Henri couldn't be my One, by no fault of his own, but simply because of the language gap. As much as I enjoyed Henri's company, it simply wouldn't work to have a Prince Consort of Illéa that only spoke Swendish. It would be better to let him down now, before things went any farther.

From inside his room, Henri called out some Swendish phrase that I could only assume meant something like to, "I'm going to come answer the door now!". He was smiling widely already, but his grin widened even more when he saw me. "Hello! Eadlyn!"

"Hi Henri," I said softly, trying to return his smile. He was so innocent compared to the rest of the Selected; I wasn't sure if he'd be able to tell what was coming. "Could we sit down, please? I have to talk to you about something."

His eyebrows scrunched together; clearly, he had to think very hard about my words. That just made me all the more sure in my difficult decision to let him go. I couldn't imagine marrying someone and needing a buffering period after every word. Even if that someone was as lovely as Henri.

"Talk?" he questioned, comprehending one word out of fifteen. "I?"

"Yes, you," I told him, taking his hand gently and having him sit down at his desk. There was a chance he would cry, so I thought it would be better if he was sitting down. Just in case. "Henri, I'm afraid your time in the Selection is over. I like you, I really do, but…we don't even speak the same language. It would never work out. I'm sorry."

At first, he just stared at me blankly, trying to string all the words together. Eventually, he grabbed one of his English textbooks and paged through it before replying to me. "I…leave?"

"Not exactly!" I said quickly, getting to the more positive part of my speech. "You need to leave the Selection, yes, but I want you to stay at the _palace._ I want to hire you as a baker."

'Baker' was a word that Henri could definitely translate. His eyes absolutely lit up when I said it. "I stay? I bake? For you?"

"Yes!" I said enthusiastically. "We'll pay you really well, we'll cover all your insurance, we'll hire you a long-term translator and provide English lessons…"

I'm pretty sure at least eighty-five percent of that went over his head, but Henri still jumped up from his seat to hug me. I laughed, mostly because I was just so relieved that he hadn't cried. I really didn't want him to be upset with me. Henri had been such a good boyfriend, and if things were different, he probably could have been a good husband too, but he would be an even better pastry chef. I was sure of that one.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed. "Thank you!"

"You're very welcome," I told him sincerely. "If you don't want to start right away, that's fine. You can move down to the kitchens and bake whenever you like."

Henri grabbed a wooden spoon off his desk (funny, I hadn't noticed _that_ there) and thrust it into the air enthusiastically. "I BAKE _NOW!"_

There was a lot to be said for Henri's resilience. The palace could not have asked for a better baker.

 **Fun Fact: I only have 8/10 chapters planned, and one of them I have no clue how to write, so feel free to leave me suggestions. My sister is tired of me asking her for ideas.**


	5. Henri Has a Normal Translator

**Halfway through the story, and now two Henri chapters in a row! I love Henri, I said that already, but I really think he deserved better. Poor Henners kind of got dragged around for the sake of the plot, y'know? I also thought it was weird that Henri was even ALLOWED to have a male translator of eligible age. But I'm biased; I kinda have a grudge against Erik. Whatever. Just please enjoy this quick chapter, and maybe encourage me to put another up soon.**

Chapter Five

"Hello," I said pleasantly, or at least as pleasantly as I could manage. Greeting all my newly Selected suitors was one part boring and three parts EXHAUSTING, since I was without a doubt expected to know everyone's name and maybe even some fun facts just from these five-minute introductions. I was good with names, sure, but it was simply too much information to take in so quickly.

So it was kind of refreshing, actually, when the blonde boy I was introducing myself to just stared at me blankly. It provided me with a very small (and very necessary) mental break. I liked this guy already.

"Hei!" he said after a pause. He had quite a heavy accent; I wondered where he was from. It kind of worried me that I didn't know. That was the kind of thing I was definitely supposed to know.

"Are you enjoying the palace so far?" I asked politely.

Aaaaand, the blank stare was back. The boy appeared to be in deep thought. It was a little bit worrying. "Uh, excuse me, what's your name?"

"Name?" he repeated, pausing a moment. "Henri!"

Okay, I remembered the name 'Henri' from drawing the envelopes last week. So this was definitely a Selected guy, not some creepy rando just wandering around in the palace, but, uh…did he even speak English?

"Babushka!" Henri called, looking around worriedly behind him. "Babushka!"

That worried me even more. Who was he talking to? Was this guy actually crazy? I was really starting to regret not meeting the suitors in a more populated place, but then, all of a sudden, an old woman shuffled into the room. She was short, and quite stout, with a scarf over her bushy white hair and a scowl across her weathered face.

"Allo," she said gruffly. "I am Babushka. Henri is Swendish. Henri only speaks Finnish. I will translate for him."

Unsure of what to do (nobody had warned me about this. How irresponsible.) I stuck out my hand for her to shake. "Pleased to meet you, ah, Mrs…?"

"Babushka," she informed me.

Well. That would make things a little simpler.

Via Babushka, I had a quick conversation with Henri, and I found him to be charming and cute. The translator thing was awkward, sure, but I thought Babushka was a good fit for the job. She was better than, like, a handsome guy about my age or something.

I mean, how weird would _that_ be?

 **Additionally, I'm very sorry about the plot error in the last chapter- I think I claimed that Henri spoke Swendish, not Finnish, so I could've actually Googled some vague phrases for authenticity. That's what I get for doing no research whatsoever on this wreck of a story.**


	6. America Talks Some Sense Into Eadlyn

**May have gotten a bit carried away with this one. But the PARALLELS between America and Kile drove me absolutely crazy when I read the books. I swear, Kiera planned to make Keadlyn a thing and then trashed it for the sake of a plot twist. But that's none of my business.**

 **Sorry this took so long, by the way.**

Chapter Six

Shoulders slumped, Eadlyn dragged herself into the Women's Room and flopped down on one of the couches, surely wrinkling her luxurious gown. For once, she didn't care. She was a mess.

Her mother, the only other person in the Women's Room, looked up worriedly. "Eady, are you alright?"

"No!" Eadlyn exclaimed dramatically. "I am not even a little bit alright!"

America scooted closer to her on the couch. "Well, I'm listening. What's going on?"

(Ever since America's heart attack, she hadn't been allowed to do much, so listening to her daughter whine would probably be the most exciting thing to happen to her all week.)

Eadlyn sighed. "It's my Selection. I really don't know how to choose, but it's already down to the Elite, so I have to keep moving before the public gets bored…"

"Well, that's not _exactly_ the case," America reminded her. "You're doing this for _you,_ not the public. "Don't let anyone else's opinion sway yours."

"It is _definitely_ not that simple," Eadlyn grumbled. She hadn't started this Selection for herself. She just had to finish it that way.

America patted her hair. "Well, okay. Tell me about your options."

"First there's Fox, I guess," Eadlyn said wearily. "I don't really have any connection with him at all."

"Then he's not an option," America said wisely.

"And then Ean," Eadlyn continued. "He's…well, I don't know, I haven't spent as much time with him. He's just…there."

America did not need to know about her daughter's potential deal of a loveless marriage with Eadlyn. Some things were better kept secret.

"Keep going," America told her.

"Well, there's Hale," Eadlyn said. "I like him, I guess. I think he'd be a good prince."

"He probably would be," America agreed. "He's very charming. Do you love him, though?"

"Well, I don't know!" Eadlyn exclaimed. "If I knew that, I wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"Fair enough," America conceded. "Who else?"

"There's Henri." Eadlyn had to smile just thinking of Henri. "Henri's cute and sweet and I _like_ him. Kind of like a puppy, though. I don't know if I could ever…"

"Produce an heir with him?" America said wryly.

"Mom!" Eadlyn complained, swatting her on the arm. "And then there's the _language gap._ That makes it hard too! Nearly everything I _say_ to him has to go through a translator! How awkward is _that?"_

"Very awkward," America said grimly. "And that's not a good trait for a Prince Consort. Not that you _couldn't_ make it work, but…"

Eadlyn got it. She nodded with a serious little frown. "Yeah, I know. It'd be a long shot."

"None of those options are really sticking out to me," America worried. "Who else is there?"

"Well…" Eadlyn's voice got awfully dreamy all of a sudden. "There's _Kile."_

America raised her eyebrows. "That's…wow. Tell me more about Kile, please."

"I like him a lot, Mom," Eady admitted. "He's not at all who I thought he was. He's smart, and funny, and kind of obsessed with butter…I really like spending time with him, and talking to him, and…"

"Kissing him on TV?" America finished.

"MOM!" Eadlyn scolded, blushing fiercely. _"Totally_ different situation. Things have changed. I feel like I really _know_ him now, and we've got a real relationship. Sometimes I'm really sure I love him."

America looked quite exasperated all of a sudden. "Then _why_ one earth are we having this conversation? Clearly, Kile is the only one you have real, potential feelings for."

"But I'm not sure he wants all that," Eadlyn confessed. "You've heard him; he hates this palace. Before the Selection, I heard him call it a cage a hundred times. I don't want to force him to stay here for the rest of his life, even though he says he doesn't mind and he'd do it for me."

"Oh, Eadlyn…" America put a hand on her shoulder. "When I entered your father's Selection, I felt a lot like Kile did at first. I didn't think I was supposed to be here. I know I called this palace a cage more than once. But once I started falling in love…it _all_ changed."

"Really?" Eadlyn asked dubiously. _"You_ didn't want to be here?"

America shrugged. "Well…yes and no. It was complicated, back then. I couldn't imagine being willing to stay here forever, but now I know I'm exactly where I'm meant to be, and I don't doubt at all that Kile feels the same way about _you."_

"You mean it?" Eadlyn asked in a small voice.

"I really do." America nodded solemnly. "If Kile didn't want to stay with you, he wouldn't say it. You should know him better than that by now."

"I really should," Eadlyn sighed. "…maybe I should go talk to him right now."

"About getting married?" America asked hopefully.

Eadlyn yelped. "Not _now,_ Mom! Slow down!"

But of course, they did eventually get married, and Eadlyn was a great Queen while Kile was an adored Prince Consort and they had like six kids and THEY ALL LIVED HAPPILY EVER, GOD DAMN IT.

 **Don't act like this wasn't how it was supposed to happen.**


	7. Erik Gets Assassinated

**I don't know much about the Selection fandom, but I worry that some of my readers may see this and think I'm some kind of psychopath. I just got the idea in my head and I had to write it.**

Chapter Seven

"Do you, Eadlyn Helena Margarete Schreave, take Erik to be your lawfully wedded husband?" the preacher intoned.

I nodded serenely. "I do."

The preacher turned to Erik. "And do you, Eikko Petteri Koskinen, take Eadlyn to be your lawfully wedded wife?"

"I d-"

"HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!" a familiar voice shouted from the back of the room. Everyone attending the wedding, even me, turned to see what the hell was going on. My mouth fell open as my brain processed the scene before me- a wild-eyed Grandma Singer, waving a gun around like a madwoman at the other end of the church.

 _Oh geez, I_ knew _I should've invited her to the wedding!_ I scolded myself. I'd _planned_ to invite my own grandmother to my wedding, of course, but Erik had somehow talked me out of it- she scared him, apparently. I now realized that that had been poor judgment on my part and I really should've put my foot down on that one.

Welp. Too late now.

"NOBODY MOVE!" Grandma Singer bellowed, cocking the gun very pointedly and aiming it haphazardly at the altar. Many people in the audience screamed. Palace guards crept toward her, disregarding her shout for the sake of doing their duty. I gulped.

"Grandma!" I called, turning away from Erik and the preacher. "Grandma…what are you doing?"

"I am doing the right thing," Grandma said very seriously, though she was probably deranged. "NOBODY TAKES AWAY MY CHANCE AT HAVING KILE WOODWORK AS A SON-IN-LAW!"

The congregation stopped screaming when they heard that. "Yeah, Kile was my favorite too!" one of them exclaimed.

"Me too!" another one cried. "Who the hell even _is_ this guy? We wanted Kile!"

Grandma Singer pointed the gun at Erik. One of the guards edged towards her to tackle her. Erik cowered, but he was frozen with fear. He wasn't going to run.

"Stop it!" I ordered. "Erik won the Selection fair and square! You have to be nice to him! He's the Prince Consort!"

"Not yet he's not," Grandma Singer growled. She pulled the trigger.

I was just as frozen. I knew I couldn't take the bullet for him. That was something heirs to the throne were very much not supposed to do. Also, even though I was in the middle of marrying the guy, I hadn't known him all that long. He was not necessarily worth ending my life for.

And of course, Grandma Singer's aim was true. The bullet hit Erik square in the chest, and his eyes bugged out before he toppled over. I covered my mouth, but a squeak of shock still escaped.

A grave hush fell over the whole room. Grandma Singer dropped her gun. "Well, I've done my part. Eady, try to marry someone better next time. Take me away, boys!"

A pair of guards grabbed her by the shoulders. The preacher slammed his book shut. "I'm afraid I can't finish your wedding ceremony, your majesty. Perhaps you should have another later with that Kile fellow?"

 **Maybe it was a better story in my head, but I just couldn't see Illéa accepting Erik as Eadlyn's consort. Sorry.**


	8. Clarkson's Ghost Haunts Eadlyn

… **and all of a sudden, I am back into it! I had mega writer's block on this one, but then I got a bunch of reviews and the warm fuzzy feeling of positive feedback encouraged me to whip out this chapter at 11:30 pm and post it immediately.**

 **Thank you, by the way, for all of the reviews, especially on Chapter 7! I could do a whole Appreciation Chapter on everyone who left feedback, but I don't think that's what the majority of you are interested in reading, so I'll just leave it as a big generic 'thank you' to the whole lot of you.**

 **PS- I got the idea for this chapter by rereading Happily Ever After. As much as I hated Clarkson in the original trilogy, I found him HILARIOUS in Amberley's novella. AND FOR GOD'S SAKE, BRING SOME BUTTER!1!111!**

I awoke to a _thump._ Because I lived on the same floor as Kaden and Osten, thumps in the night were not all that unusual, but this one felt different. It sounded closer, first and foremost, like it was in my very room, and that right there was enough to make me sit bolt upright and look around for the source.

I saw something at the foot of my bed, but my vision was still blurry with sleep, so I couldn't tell what it was. I rubbed my eyes a couple times to see clearly, but the thing was, that didn't help. The thing at the foot of my bed _was_ blurry, and it seemed it had thrown my lamp across the room. That must've been what woke me up.

The thing was also glowing. I feel like I should have noticed that a bit sooner.

I sat up abruptly, scared. My instinct was either to a) run screaming, or b) hide under my blankets, but I couldn't do either of those things. I was a princess, for god's sakes. I had to see what it was. I rubbed my eyes a little (maybe it was just a dream; I hadn't completely ruled that out yet) and then leaned closer to the glowing object at the foot of my bed.

Oh, dear god.

It was a ghost.

 _Definitely_ a ghost.

I screamed and ducked under my quilt. I heard a heavy sigh and then a _whoosh,_ which I imagined to be the sound of the ghost moving. I certainly wasn't looking at it. I remained under the blanket, breathing at a ridiculous tempo and attempting to wake myself up from a dream I wasn't sure I was having.

"ARE YOU DONE?"

The ghost's voice simultaneously seemed to fill the whole room and exist only inside my head. A shiver ran down my spine. Was I going to die? Who _was_ this ghost, anyway? Plenty of people had died in this palace, because of all the rebel attacks in the past and such. It could have been any number of guards or old rebels.

I was curious now, in addition to scared. I lowered my blanket just enough to peep out and get a better look. The ghost was now hovering right over my chest, arms crossed irritably. He looked awfully familiar. I squinted, trying to place him.

He was a big, burly man- that much was evident even though his lower half tapered into a ghostly blur. Though he was mostly see-through, I could tell he was wearing fine clothes, and his thick beard was neatly trimmed.

And he had my father's nose, I realized.

This ghost was family.

"…done with what?" I asked timidly.

"Being a baby!" the ghost exclaimed. Though he spoke less forcefully this time, his voice still filled the whole room, or at least my head. "Don't you recognize me?"

I shook my head slightly.

"I'm your grandfather," he told me slowly, as if I was stupid. "King Clarkson Schreave."

"You're not king anymore," I blurted out, which was not necessarily the smartest thing to do. This guy could probably kill me. "My dad is. Sorry."

The ghost shook his head. "And clearly he didn't raise you to be very respectful! But that's another issue. I'm here to haunt you."

I raised my eyebrow. "Is haunting somebody _always_ this formal? I kind of thought you'd just start jumping out at me and yelling 'boo'. I didn't know you had to declare it."

"Well, this is kind of a special case," Grandpa Clarkson explained. "Normally, people get haunted because they've killed someone or done something truly _evil._ _You're_ just _stupid."_

"Hey!" I said indignantly. "If you're going to talk to me like that, I'm going back to bed!"

"Okay," he said with a shrug. "You'll figure it out eventually, I suppose. In the end, you won't really have a choice."

Those were awfully cryptic words, but I was awfully tired. I tucked my blanket around me and rolled over determinedly, telling myself quite frankly that it was all a dream.

…

I continued to believe that when I woke up the next morning. The lamp wasn't broken. There was no blurry old man in my room. Clearly, I had just eaten one too many strawberry tarts the night before, and everything was back to normal.

…I stopped thinking that about halfway through breakfast, when the ghost of Grandpa Clarkson appeared right in front of me on the table.

I couldn't help it. I squeaked. I think a little bit of food dropped out of my mouth.

"Eadlyn!" my mother scolded. "We have _guests!_ Manners!"

I gestured wildly at the ghost. "Do you not _see_ this?"

"See _what?"_

Clarkson rolled his eyes. "No, Princess, she can't see me. No one but you can see me."

"Why _me?"_ I asked in a low voice, moving my lips as little as possible. To my mom, it still definitely looked like I was talking to myself, but fortunately, Osten chose that moment to spill chocolate milk all over himself, so the Queen's attention went elsewhere.

"I'm here to haunt you," he replied. "I told you that already."

"Well, can you let me eat breakfast, please?" I asked irritably. "You're not very scary. You're just annoying."

"I'm not supposed to be scary," he said dismissively. But, with a pop, he disappeared from the breakfast table, and I was kind of hoping that was that.

…

After breakfast, I went to spectate a croquet game my Elite had started. It was quite hot out. Some of them had their shirts off. I was fairly sure that was not allowed in proper croquet, but I was in no position to be complaining. I adjusted my sunglasses and took a sip of iced tea. This was the life.

"Hey! Snap out of it!"

I nearly spit out my tea. Clarkson popped up at the end of my beach chair, looking as threatening as a translucent fifty-year-old could be. "Could you _not?"_ I sputtered, wiping my mouth. "You keep making me look _stupid._ Is _that_ what you're here for?"

"I saw what you were doing," he said, glowering at me sternly and ignoring my question. "You were staring at _that one."_

I blushed. "Uh…you mean Fox? What's wrong with Fox?"

Clarkson's glare somehow became sterner. "You know what I meant?"

I looked down. "So _what_ if I was staring at Erik? He's kinda hot too."

"He! Is! A! Translator!" Clarkson snapped. "He's not _eligible._ In my day, he'd be, like, a _Five._ I can't have my granddaughter getting with a _Five!"_

"Grandpa, you're so old-fashioned."

"You're out of his league, Eadlyn," Clarkson told me something. "Don't tempt yourself with something you can't have. You've got so many _reasonable_ options! Look at Kile over there!"

Kile did look very handsome, but it was weird to be getting boy advice from my dead grandfather. Had he tried bonding with my dad like this? No wonder they'd hated each other.

"You're making this weird, Grandpa," I told him. "Leave me alone."

"Your loss," said Clarkson, and again, he disappeared.

…

The situation quickly got out of hand. Clarkson was getting more opinionated, and the urge to yell at him was getting harder to resist. I'd actually snapped and shouted at him for calling Erik names while I was just trying to have a normal conversation. I think that may have actually been his intent, though, because now Erik thought I was crazy and he was actively avoiding me.

Even when I did, completely by coincidence, end up near Erik, Clarkson had plenty to say. None of it was nice. Within a week, I had his Translators Are Not Classy Enough For A Princess speech memorized, and I was getting close on You Have A Duty To Your Kingdom too. I was going _crazy._

It was right before lunch one day, when I was walking to the Great Hall accompanied by the Elite (plus Erik) that I really lost it with Clarkson. He was trying out a new speech; I think it was just called "Erik Sucks", and he was driving me crazy.

"And he's, like, the world's biggest pushover!" Clarkson exclaimed. "Would you really _want_ someone who would do nothing but bend over backwards for you? And never speak his mind? If he even _has_ a mind? What about that Kile fellow over there?"

I'd been trying to ignore Clarkson's speech and hand gestures, but my gaze automatically followed his to Kile. Clarkson had speeches about Kile too, but I hadn't been memorizing those. They weren't very good. Clarkson had clumsily tried to compare Kile's eyes to a summer sky, when I knew they were much more similar to a crashing wave on an Angeles beach. Clearly he didn't know Kile as well as I did.

"Can you shut up?" I hissed to Clarkson. "I don't need your help with my love life, thanks!"

"Clearly, you do," he said dryly. "You like _Erik._ Erik's, like, the world's crustiest human being! He looks like a fish!"

I meant to ignore him. I really did. But in the end, I just couldn't take it. I grabbed Clarkson by the shirtsleeve (if I caught him by surprise, he was somewhat tangible) and growled into his ear. "I am ending this haunting once and for all."

"HENRI!" I yelled.

My Swendish friend waved at me from across the hall. "Hello!"

"You're kicked out," I told him. "Or, actually, you can stay. Just get a new translator. Erik's fired."

"Oh, thank god," said Erik. "I'll see you weirdos later."

He marched right out of the palace. I turned to Clarkson wearily. "Are you happy now?"

"Thrilled," he said. He shouted after Erik. "PEASANT! BEGONE, THOT!"

"Are you going to go haunt him now?" I asked.

Clarkson shrugged, looking over me and the remaining Elite. "I don't think so, Eady. I kind of want to see how _this_ all plays out."

 **This chapter is nearly twice as long as any of the others so far. Kinda scares me, tbh. I have NO clue what I'm going to write for the last few chapters so feel free to pm me or leave suggestions as reviews. Thanks.**

 **Thanks to my little sister for hating Erik & being quotable. –Liz**


	9. Eadlyn Calls The Whole Thing Off

**In my mind, this chapter is just a solid "okay", but I was having trouble writing anything, anything at all, so I'm kind of just grateful I got through it. Does that make sense to anyone other than me? I feel like it doesn't. Oh whale. (Imagine a whale emoji here. I can't put a whale emoji here, but if I could, I really,** _ **really**_ **would.)**

 **Thanks for all the love on Chapter 8! I had a lot of fun with that one and I'm really glad I'm not the only one who enjoyed it.**

"…and now, Princess Eadlyn has an announcement to make!" Gavril told the camera, stepping back so I could have center stage on _The Report._

The stage lights were nearly blinding, but after so many years of this, I was used to it. As a princess, I was not perfect, but I really had the public speaking part down.

…though _this_ speech was probably going to be a little different than any of the ones I'd made before. A little more important, also. I was going live on _The Report_ to tell my country that I had ended my Selection by proposing to Henri.

At least, that was what I was _supposed_ to be doing. Now that I went up to _say_ it, all the words I'd rehearsed just sounded _stupid_ and _unnecessary._ I couldn't make any of it come out of my mouth.

There was a painfully awkward pause. The whole country was watching this, waiting with bated breath, and I was standing there like a fish. How brilliant.

I pulled it together quickly. I hadn't spent my whole life thus far in the public eye without gaining a couple emergency survival skills. "Good evening, Illéa," I said serenely, as if they were all right in front of me and we were just having a casual, friendly conversation. "I'm sure you're all eager to hear the news about my Selection."

It seemed they were. The studio audience started to cheer. I winced, which hopefully wasn't visible on camera.

Offstage, Silvia's little grimace indicated that yes, it definitely _was_ visible on camera. Oh well.

I didn't know what to say next. I could see Henri out of the corner of my eye, waving me on encouragingly. He was so sweet. I wished I could truly be excited about marrying him.

But I wasn't. I _really_ wasn't. I liked Henri; I enjoyed his company, but we had about as much romantic chemistry as a pair of socks. Maybe even _shoes._

I took a deep shuddery breath, and in that moment, I made up my mind. "The Selection is over!" I announced. Henri started to creep towards the stage. "I'm _cancelling_ it! I quit!"

Henri backed up very quickly.

"I mean it; I'm done with it! I don't _want_ a husband right now, and I certainly don't _need_ one, you sexist pieces of crap!" I yelled. "Yeah, that's right, I'm calling you on it! Y'all think I need a man to rule this country but I ONE HUNDRED PERCENT DO NOT!"

The crowd seemed very alarmed- their eyes were wide as saucers, and some of them had gone awfully pale. I don't think they had expected me to yell at them, but it was kind of fun, so I didn't really feel bad. It was also distinctly better than marrying Henri. Sorry, Henri.

"The Selected are kicked out of the Palace immediately!" I declared. I paused. "…well, except Kile. He lives here. Sorry, Kile."

"It's okay!" he called from behind me or wherever the Selected guys were supposed to sit. He sounded like he was laughing. Somehow, it didn't surprise me that Kile found all this funny.

"…and, uh, sorry Henri," I added. "Eadlyn out."

In lieu of dropping a microphone (because I didn't have a microphone) I yanked out my earpiece and chucked it across the room. That was a good enough exit as any, wasn't it?

 **By the way, I know Eadlyn would not say y'all. I just say y'all so much that it finds its way into my writing and I don't know how to get rid of it.**

 **Hope y'all (see? It just happens) are ready for Chapter 10! I have no idea what's going to happen in it, but you can count on 1) bad humor and 2) Kile. There will definitely be Kile.**

 **And then we're onto bonus chapters! Or bonus chapter. We'll see how it goes.**


	10. Erik Gets Punched :)

**Who here is surprised I made it to Chapter 10? I sure am. And it only took me, like, a month. And a half. Yay me. I hope y'all enjoy this "last" chapter- I banged out 3 drafts in the span of 3 hours tonight, so even if it's not GOOD, it's better than the first one. Trust me.**

 **Leave a review or Clarkson's ghost will haunt you :-)**

 **Eadlyn's POV**

Against all odds, it was a quiet night.

I'd invited my five remaining Elite (Kile, Henri, Fox, Hale, and Ean) to hang out in the Women's Room for the evening because, quite frankly, hearing Mom and Marlee prattle on about the "good old days" was getting boring. _Very_ boring. I wanted my Saturday night to be a little more interesting, thanks, but the boys hadn't really livened things up that much. Hale and Ean were on the loveseat by the window, their legs hooked over the armrests as they talked to each other quietly. It could not have been more obvious that they were a couple. I probably should have kicked them out by now.

On the _other_ loveseat, Mom and Marlee were now arguing about something to do with a dog (I'd lost track of the specifics), and I myself was playing Battleship with Josie. If I beat her, she would have to put it in writing that she'd keep her paws of my tiaras for at least a month. If _she_ beat _me_ , then she got my third-favorite tiara for keeps. The stakes were high, clearly.

Fortunately, I had a bit of an advantage over Josie, but she didn't know about that, and it would probably be better if she didn't ever find out.

The remaining four (Kile, Henri, Henri's translator, and Fox) were playing some card game on the coffee table. I was pretty sure it was War, but could you even _play_ War with four people? I wasn't sure.

"I-9," King Clarkson's ghost whispered to me, glancing over at Josie's board.

"Excellent," I whispered back.

"Huh?" said Josie, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, uh, I-9," I stammered.

She scowled at me and placed a pin on her ship. _"How_ does she do that?" she muttered to herself, looking worried for the sake of her fleet.

"You suck at this," Clarkson told me sternly. "You're _so_ lucky no one but you can see me."

"Shut up, Clark," I hissed. "Does it go sideways or up and down?"

He peered over the board again, but before he could answer me one way or another, I heard the coffee table being flipped (I'd heard this plenty of times before; I knew what it sounded like) and I think all of us whipped around to look at it. I didn't have a fast enough reaction time to actually _see_ the table being flipped; I looked just in time to see Kile punching Erik straight in the face. "THAT'S WHAT YOU GET FOR CHEATING!"

"Erik has a girlfriend?" I murmured, confused.

Clarkson rolled his eyes. "At cards, idiot."

Oh. That made a little more sense. But that was kind of a secondary issue right now, because Kile had just punched Erik and shit was presumably about to go down.

Kile lowered his fist, though he didn't really look sorry. No, he wasn't even a little bit sorry. While Erik was lying on the ground (well, more so lying on the knocked-over table) with his hands over his face, Kile neatly plucked a trio of cards out of his sleeve. "All kings," he declared gravely. "Friends, family, I think we all know what this means."

"Thad you're a zygopath?" Erik exclaimed. His bloody nose really butchered the word 'psychopath'. "WHO PUNGES BEEBLE FOR CHEATING AT CARDSH?"

"Someone who was betting on the cards," Kile said solemnly. "Take him away, boys!"

I don't know when the guards had started obeying the Woodworks as well as the royal family, but a couple of them showed up to drag Erik to the dungeons or whatever. A maid came in to clean up the bloodstains. Erik's nose had really done a number on the carpet.

Fox pointed accusingly at Kile. "You have to kick him out now, right? RIGHT?"

"Well…" I trailed off. I didn't really want to kick Kile out, but I couldn't think of a way to make that, like, legal. "I can't kick Kile out because he's my favorite" was just not something a queen should say.

Fortunately, Hale stood up for Kile before I had to. "Oh, come on, Fox. Like there isn't a single one of us who _hasn't_ wanted to punch Erik."

"It's sad but true," said Marlee.

"I'll just make sure it gets hushed up," my mom said wisely. She had plenty of experience with that sort of thing. "Everything will be fine."

I believed her. I pushed the game of Battleship aside (sorry, Josie) and picked up the cards Erik had left behind. "So," I said conversationally, sitting down across from Kile. "What's this about betting on War?"

…

 **Third Person POV**

"I couldn't be more proud of her," America said quietly, squeezing her husband's hand.

Maxon nodded in agreement. They were in the background, for once, at the reception of their daughter's wedding. No one cared about the former king and queen when the _new_ queen had just gotten married! Eadlyn was doing a brilliant job of everything- charming dignitaries, dancing with guests, and hugging person after person, just to name a few.

All with Kile by her side. Of _course_ it was Kile; hadn't it been obvious from the start? There had been a time when America had worried that Eadlyn would make the wrong choice or, more likely, refused to make a choice at all. But Eady had rose to the challenge. She'd followed her heart, even when it didn't seem to know where it was going.

"She did good," said Maxon, voicing Mer's thoughts. "Not as good as us, maybe, but our girl did awfully good."

 **Congrats kids, you made it to the "end" of my first fic that's NOT just a one shot. I salute you. I hope you enjoyed this "last" chapter- I kinda tried to please everyone with it, which did not Really Work, but you know. Effort.**

 **I've got 1 solid idea for a bonus chapter and a couple additional shaky ones. I ALSO stumbled upon my first draft for Chapter 3 as I was editing this one, and uhhhhh I couldn't write an ending for it BUT IT'S COMEDY GOLD I TELL YA.**

 **That's all I've got for this one. If the bonus chapters get canceled, I hope y'all know that I veryveryvery much appreciate all the reads I've gotten and I'm so glad people have stuck around til the end. Love, Liz**


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